For Life
by Raynidreams
Summary: Dean is changed forever as an old enemy wants revenge.  Warnings for the F word
1. Chapter 1

[Please note that the breaks in the latter chapters of this story have become messed up with some changes that ffn have made since this was posted. I will try and re-edit this story and alter these formatting problems over the next few months now I know about them. I will also aim to finish the sequel to this story, Life Style Adjustments, 28/02/2011]

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Title: For Life

Author: RireneC

Rating: T

Summary: Dean is changed forever as an old enemy returns for revenge. Set post season 2, pre 3, so I suspect AU.

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"Bitch." Dean said the word softly and watched from beneath lowered lids as his breath excited the dust motes in the air.

He was not in good shape. Every part of his body tingled as though he'd been slammed repeatedly against an electric fence. In attempting a weak grin with his split lip, he reflected that the witch girl had certainly known how to party. Hot and kinky, he hadn't put two and two together until he woke up half naked and tied up to a wall.

Typical.

And as Sam would say, too much thinking with his downstairs brain.

He suddenly tensed up at the sound of cautious footsteps emanating from the room behind him. Breathing carefully he counted the steps, aiming to judge the distance between his captor and himself, while twisting his head as far as his bindings would allow to look out. He'd scanned the place after first surfacing from being dosed up in the bar and discovered he'd been trapped in a dark room with some seriously fucked up clutter. It was these haphazard boxes of mirrors and misshapen mannequins that now blocked his view of her return.

Sweat pearled on already clammy skin as he felt her presence behind him getting closer. The fear of her threatened to steal his breath until the welcome heat of anger came to his defence. Dean leaned back relaxing his muscles one at a time and as his father taught him to, _'think of the eye of the storm, be calm and prepared._' For a moment, he sat motionless, relishing in the quiet sounds of his own breathing.

_Just a few more steps you bitch_, he thought ready to take down the thing that'd suckered him with her womanly charms.

"Dean?"

The voice was warm and questioning but in Dean's stillness, the sound of it failed to register at first.

"Dean? You here?" Came the whisper again. This time he sat up in response.

An overly large shape stalked round the corner of a mirror that wouldn't have looked out of place in 'The Return to Oz'.

Happiness flooded through Dean and the thought of frighting back was completely forgotten. The elder Winchester sank back laughing as he recognised the voice and a second later, the lean denim clad form of his brother. Sam glanced down at Dean before swinging the gun around to check all corners and releasing his breath.

"Some help would be useful bro?" Dean struggled against the bonds holding is hands in place. "I'm sure it's clear. I think I heard her run outta here a little while ago. Still hunting I expect. Either that, or I am too damn tasty to waste as an appetizer." Bravado in place, Dean shone a brilliant smile up at his brother while surreptitiously checking that his time spent AWOL had not got Sam hurt.

"Funny." Sam crouched down and cut the tie holding the elder Winchester in place. Dean accepted the offered hand with a groan. "You okay?"

"Fi, fi, fo, fum." He stretched his back from too long being stuck on the cold floor and then took the gun Sam offered.

"You're getting your fairy tales mixed up, jerk. That's the bean stalk Giant, not Hansel and Gretel's witch.' Sam scrutinised Dean through lowered lids. 'Seriously though, you fine? Not missing any... bits?"

The trail of missing kids in the Jersey area had turned out to be a cannibalistic witch. One who the brothers were irked to find, did not live in a candy covered house, but rather in an ordinary suburban semi. They'd scoped the place the previous day and got further annoyed to find she had a brightly coloured parrot instead of a black cat. The only consolation to their ready preconceptions was that the label on the birdcage read 'Lucifer', and the fucking thing bit like a damned hell-hound.

Dean shook his head in answer to Sam's question however, he leaned back to show a large bite mark on his neck.

"It's just a hicky."

"That's one helluva hicky."

Sam gently touched the edge of the mark, noting how the brilliant red only served to show how bleached Dean's skin was.

"We'll holy water it back at the motel. She bite you anywhere else?"

Dean winked. "I'm fine. Bit to long in the tooth for the buffet I expect. She is well horny though, tried to eat me in different ways. Ways you're much too young to hear about Sammy, my boy."

Sam didn't even bother to glare, he was simply that glad to see his cocky shit for a brother still alive and in one piece.

"Get defensive, Dean. I'm not the one she played."

Sam watched, as his brother's relief at being found was quickly replaced by anger. The last few weeks had been rough and when Dean had shot him the 'don't come back till breakfast' look over the woman's head, he'd left him to it without even bothering to lecture. He'd returned to their room an hour ahead of dawn, only to find it empty. It'd taken Sam one glance at Dean's untouched bed to guess the truth behind his brother's disappearance before he was running to the Chevy. Dean might procrastinate with a girl for an hour or two on a job, but he'd always be back before morning. Especially when the job involved saving children. It wasn't in his nature to ignore the fear and deaths of kids.

"I wanna find Evil Willow 'cuz playtime is defiantly over."

Dean marched up into the dark house, angrily scanning the rooms for the witch's presence. Despite his earlier glibness, he was really pissed that both he and Sam had been duped by her. They'd already gotten her photofit from the cops, found her home and waited. Twelve long hours and several bitching sessions later, the boys had retreated to the nearest bar for food and beer, hoping that she hadn't already run. They'd been discussing the plan to return at daybreak when Dean had noticed a lonesome brunette in need of some loving. It'd never occurred to him that the hot bar chick could be the same child eating witch they been hunting.

"She had us pretty good. I'd forgotten that some witches can use glamour spells to change their appearance, for good or ill." Sam commented as he looked along the shelves of china plates in the kitchen. He'd searched the downstairs before finding Dean. Here again he noted how the pretty lounge and dining room annoyed him as much as the rest of the semi, and the parrot did upstairs. He hated it when normal everyday things hid something so evil. Cursing, and not wanted to repeat the parrot attack, he'd figured that Evil Girl plus Dean equalled basement and chains, so he'd headed on down and dirty. Sam chuckled when he realised it was only the chain part he'd got wrong. He knew it was clichéd, but bad things loved basements. And Dean loved bad things. Well, women anyway.

"Shush. You smell something?"

Dean's sharp tone cut through Sam's amusement.

"Apart from you?" He shot back before noticing that Dean looked sicker than before. "Dude, you okay?"

"Upstairs." A slight flush was beginning to creep up over the elder Winchester's sharp cheekbones. The colour only served to make his eyes appear glassy and his lips paler.

Sam followed his brother up the stairs, concern creasing his forehead like the pain of an oncoming vision. He'd scanned his brother in the basement and assessed the damage that the witch had inflicted: Dean had seemed stiff, sore and pallid but now his movements were urgent and strong. With each step Dean seemed to come more alive. Sam shook off his sense of foreboding, putting it down to Dean's GI Joe-like ability to disregard pain, and followed.

At the landing the Winchesters shared a look, neither of them needing to be told that the metallic scent in the air was fresh blood. Dean swallowed convulsively. He felt as if he were drawing in the scent like most would oxygen. It made all the parts of his body that had previously tingled, roar.

Dean held up three fingers, then two, before Sam Starsky'd the door open.

Like the rest of the house, the shutters were drawn tight. It made it difficult to distinguish shadow from gore. Blood was splattered all over the room leading Sam to think that hopefully there was too much mess to have come from a child. Careful of treading in anything, Sam moved further into the room towards the bed. A red soaked sheet covered what looked like a body and tentatively, he reached out and pulled it back.

"What the fuck? Dean, I found your girl friend. Looks like someone did the job for us."

Sam remained staring down at the damaged features of the girl from the bar. He wondered if this was her actual face, or the just the last one that the witch had cast upon herself before death. Either way, she would wear this one until she rotted. For once, Sam was not sorry to see a pretty girl dead.

"Sam?"

Sam didn't turn at he brother's call, his eyes lost in the horror of the room.

"I know Dean, we need to get gone before the cops get here." The younger man sighed and then dropped the sheet back. He hoped that this wasn't the work of some vigilante hunter. His experiences of Gordon's way of finishing a job left a nasty taste.

"Sam, you need to leave. Now!" Dean growled the sentence and shouted the last word.

Sam spun round and gaped. He saw a worse terror than the blooded room behind him reflected in his brother's vampire eyes and fanged mouth.

"Dean!"

"Sammy, run!"


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for the reviews!

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_Sam spun round and gaped. He saw a worse terror than the blooded room behind him reflected in his brother's vampire eyes and fanged mouth. _

"_Dean!"_

"_Sammy, run!" _

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Chapter Two

He'd caught the sharp scent of blood downstairs. The hit of adrenalin in response to it had made him forget all about his body's discomfort. It had called to him summoning him onwards and upwards. At the landing he was almost overpowered by his need to find the source of the blood. Nevertheless, he'd looked to his brother first and he and Sam had connected. His brother's acknowledging gaze had soothed the rush and calmed him down. The reliance upon each other during a hunt was vital. It was the ritual that kept them alive. Mostly.

Dean could recall counting down with his fingers and the image of Sam thrusting the door open. It was just the moments afterwards that were unclear.

Concentrating hard, he tried to reconstruct what he'd been thinking. If was difficult. It seemed as if that in the moment the door smashed, the ability to think had been vanquished by the need to feel. The memory of his enhanced abilities was only strengthened by the need to feed. It had buried what Dean knew about himself, threatening to drown all of who he was.

Forcing his brain to work, he remembered how his sight had been crimelab perfect, and how the taste and the smell had governed his mind during those moments. The tantalising scent emanating from the bedroom had simply jumped Dean's dormant senses into overdrive.

He had felt a sweet pain erupt over his face and mouth. The taste told him that, the blood he could smell was dead and dirty however, the overwhelming tang of it heightened his hearing and smell. It made his blood latch onto the closest source of release. Fangs descending, his dark shadowed eyes locked on the stretch of smooth neck showing above Sam's collar. Swallowing against the tide of saliva in his mouth, he drank in the smell of his brother's hair and the sound of his heartbeat.

Tears slipped down Dean's cheeks as he could remember the bliss with which he had taken that first step forward, intent on tearing into Sam's throat. Sam had been so defenceless, relaxed in the security that Dean was guarding his back. The knowledge that he'd almost been the one to kill his brother almost broke Dean. Sam's safety was his job. If it hadn't been for the sound of his own name said by his brother, the elder Winchester might have destroyed them both. Dean had always considered the call of his own name by Sam, one of the most wonderful sounds on earth – it meant that Sam was alive to yell it and he was alive to hear.

As it was, his guilt at his murderous instincts lay deep within the pit of his stomach, dousing the fire of hunger in cold hard reality. Dean knew what he must do. He had to end it.

Dean heard the door to the motel room open, and concentrated on the movements in the room beyond.

"Sam?" his voice came our more tremulous than anticipated, so he tried again, "Sammy, that you?"

A brown mop of hair followed by that elongated body appeared round the door. Sam moved in and then carefully shut the door behind him, blocking out any rays from the sunlit bedroom. When he met Dean's gaze, shame marred Sam's features as he once again looked down upon his brother tied up (this time in chains) to the towel heater.

"Dean, I'm so sorry. When I saw you like that. I did the only thing I could think of." The words came out in a rush. "God, I am so, so sorry. I'm pretty sure that deep down, I knew it wouldn't kill you, but it was my instant reaction, oh man. Please, forgive me." The younger man sank to his knees gesturing to Dean's bare shoulder.

Dean stared at him in confusion for a second before repeating, "Forgive you?" Now that the thirst had subsided Dean could feel the pain of the bullet wound below his collar bone. He looked down to a scar which appeared days, rather than the hours old that he suspected it had been. Dean wasn't surprised to find that only now he could recall the gunfire and the impact barrelling him back onto the landing and stairs. Previously, these memories had been blocked by the vestiges of hunger and moreover, in the knowledge that he'd seen Sam as food.

"Dude, you did the right thing,' he said the words as gently as he could. This was not going to be a sharing moment. 'There is nothing to forgive. Except that now you have to forgive me when I ask you to finish it."

Dean didn't jump at Sam's startled leap to his feet, he been expecting it. He knew Sam inside out; Sam would argue, moan but Dean was giving him an order. This had to be done.

"No! Don't start this. You didn't kill me. You told me to run!"

"Sam! Don't make me tell you how I watched the pulse beat in your throat. Don't make me explain how even now, I can hear and feel the blood thumping through your heart. End this. Now!" He flexed strong muscles against the chains attached to the towelling rack. Although he felt drained, he knew that rested and fed, he could pull the wooden wall down with very little effort. The power scared him.

"Fuck you! I made you promise me that if I ever turned you'd do the right thing, and when it came to it you couldn't." Anger made Sam's face twist; it was the one expression Dean never liked to see on his brother's face.

"You were friggin' possessed!' Dean shouted back, 'I knew it wasn't you!' The rise in tension was beginning to make his veins boil again. Breathing heavily, he beseeched his brother, 'Sam, I don't want to live like this. I can't. We were raised to kill the supernatural. Not harbour it."

"What the hell have you been doing for me, then? Pretty much the rest of the world sees me as demon spawn. Should I just behead you, and then empty a barrel into myself to rid the world of us both?' he ran shaky fingers through his hair, 'I've told you before, our job is hunting evil. You are not friggin' evil! You told me to run," he repeated.

"And a second before I thought you were a fucking Wendy Burger! Damnit, Sam. I didn't bring you back to fucking kill you myself! If you can't do it, chain me up somewhere and call Bobby, or Jo. They can do it and you can live the rest of your life. You can carry on, or go to school. The yellow-eyed mother's dead, you're free. Go back to school. Get married. Live your life."

"Oh for heaven's sake. For a start, we have to hunt down and find, every last piece of shit that forced itself out of that gate. Secondly, if I were - and I'm not gonna - finish you, I would do it. Not figgin' Jo, or anybody else. Me. I'm not a coward,' he paused to let it sink in, 'And, lastly, but most of all, you told me to run. Even in the midst of all that hunger, and I can see it in your face even now, you said run." The word was like a mantra to him. All his life, Dean had put himself between Sam and danger. And now, despite the fact that Dean saw himself as the danger, Sam was going to face it, without his older brother as a shield. They were, and always would be equals.

Frustration caused a twitch to leap in Dean's jaw. Despite him hoping that the order and reason would get through to his little brother, he should have guessed at the level of Sam's stubbornness. He got it from their father, and John was etched into every line of Sam's face and stance.

"Fuck, Sam!" Ever the articulate one, Dean subsided into plotting that as soon as he got free, he'd sort this on his own.

Encouraged by his brother's lack of argument, Sam settled back to the floor. "You couldn't kill me when I was possessed. You knew it wasn't me doing those terrible things. Just as I know now it wasn't you in those seconds where you were going to attack."

Dean didn't look at him but stared stonily at the wall opposite. It finally made Sam snap. From the tiniest, nastiest, darkest part of his mind, Sam called upon the most powerful weapon he had.

"Don't be such a selfish bastard, Dean!" The elder man whipped his head round at that.

"Selfish? You're everything... I'm doing this for you," pain and hunger made Dean's newly fledged fangs descend slightly. He gasped in the aim to control the sudden onslaught of thirst.

"Fuck are you. I don't get to check out, but you do, is that it? You sold your soul to get me back,' Sam stood again, towering over his prone brother, 'I could have been at peace, free from this fatal dread I have of becoming something rotten. YOU brought me back, and now I have to fear the future without you fighting beside me? I know that you're hurting, that the pangs are new and ungoverned, but this can be controlled, we've seen it."

"Sammy, no! I promised I'd keep you safe." Dean's mortification that Sam thought he wanted to leave him guttered his resistance. Did Sam really think that he didn't care for him enough to try? Privately, the thought had terrified Dean that he might have transported Sam from a quiet rest to hell on earth. Dean was not a praying man but deep down, he hoped this was better than wherever Sam had been in those cold dead hours before Dean had made the trade.

The younger Winchester didn't stop at the uncharacteristic sobs from his brother, they only galvanised his screaming reply, "Safe! From you? How about from myself? You brought me back, and now you want to leave me alone. Are you that much of a coward, you are not willing to fight the same feelings of rage that I do everyday! The only thing that keeps me safe from the world, but mostly from myself is YOU, DEAN!"

The elder man, more boy in that moment, sank like a marionette whose stings had been severed. He was spent. "Fine,' he said gruffly. Without looking up he added, "But you need to find something for me to eat then, and quick". Only then did his usually green eyes, now blackened, meet Sam's, "You're staring to look less like a Wendy Burger and more like rump steak with extra onions. And get me some pie."

Sam's reply was a mere shadow of a smile before he left Dean alone with his thoughts.

"Love me some pie..." the words sounded bleak.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Sitting in the car, Sam reflected that of all the messed up and crazy shit he'd ever done, breaking into the blood bank was perhaps one of the most immoral. At least he'd only stolen type O. As the most common of all blood types, it was reassuring to believe that there was enough of it going round for the next poor soul needing extra juice.

Sam's booty now lay cold and repellent in his hands. He just hoped Dean could stomach it as he knew he'd be hard pressed ever too.

Examining the limp bags, he began to squeeze the plastic tight, watching as the dark liquid pressed hard against the lining. He kept applying pressure until his knuckles turned white and the seals almost split.

The image of the bags bursting, the blood running down his arms and face wormed into his mind with a vicious explosion. He just wanted to punch someone, anyone, and hard.

The young man dropped the bags and slammed his open palms angrily against the dash. How had the hunt ended up going so badly? The witch wasn't a vampire so why was Dean? Who killed her? And why was this all happening now? The sudden flash of frustration in response to these questions made him want to claw away at the hard surface in a bid to find the answers beneath.

Dark images flashed through his head: the deaths of Jess and John, the laughing face of Yellow Eyes, to the photographs depicting the remains of the dead children. The local Jersey rags had made grim reading of late and the cops had appeared clueless. For a moment, it was like his head could only see in the black and white of newsprint; the monochrome detail made all the more cold from the lack of colour and definition of dotted contrast.

He'd been reluctant to get involved at first, believing it to be a human killer and so down to the boys in blue to finish. And then, after ritualistic signs were spotted, he'd hoped that some other demon hunting duo might take up the mantle. Sam had been refusing almost every hunt over the last few weeks, spending all his time researching devil's traps and crossroad demon reports. Hell, he must have listened to Dean's Robert Johnson tape at last fifty times in the effort to find some inspiration. But, when it became clear that this was a hunt for a supernatural child killer, he'd not too reluctantly given in to Dean. The knowledge that the Roadhouse massacre had created a severe shortage of applicants for the post made him lay aside his obsession, knowing that this thing wouldn't get dead without them.

The Winchester brothers had initially been in the area to chase down some retired hunter who had contacted them via Ellen supposedly to offer information on how to hold off a demonic oath. The wretched bastard had however, only called to lead them into a trap. The hunter, supporting team Gordon, had waited till they pulled up in the Chevy and taken a pop shot at Sam's chest. Sam was a dead man walking, literally, but because of his elder brother's total mistrust of everyone, Dean'd been insistent on Sam wearing their one and only vest. Sam wondered sometimes if his brother didn't have a psychic talent of his own. One which alerted him in advance, to any possible threat to his younger sibling. Sam was surprised that Dean didn't have, 'Touch My Brother at Your Own Risk,' tattooed on his forehead. The shooter certainly wouldn't been using his trigger hand any time soon, if he was ever able to have the use of his arms again.

His long hair obscured Sam's view as looked back towards their motel room. It seemed as if he had been spending most of his time alone in the Impala over the last few days. He'd slept in it the night Dean was taken; drove back with a bleeding, unconscious Dean in the trunk; used it to get to the blood bank to steal supplies, and now he was just sitting here lost in his thoughts. Alone was not a good place to be in the current climate.

He knew he should go back. Dean must be starving. Newly turned, he would need feeding and soon. Sam was simply unable to move past the memory of shock freezing his body as he'd stared at Dean's transformed face. In those moments he'd felt a grief more primitive and deeper than ever before. It cut him more than the loss of Jess being eaten away by flames.

The seconds in between seeing Dean and raising his gun was a time out of mind for him. Watching Dean fall back through the doorway and down the stairs weighed on his already heavy heart: keeping it together during their talk had taken almost inhuman strength. The pressure of all these thoughts threatened to be his undoing. It called to the dark little part of himself again, the one he seemed to be constantly battling these days. Without realising it, Sam's long fingers had scratched thin grooves down the sleek finish of the dash, bruising his nails in the process.

"Piss!"

Sam solemnly examined his finger tips.

In a flash of energy he grabbed the units, shoved them in the drug store bag and then exited the car. Unconsciously, his mind was comforted a little by the familiar whines and groans of car's suspension.

Walking to their room Sam knew how easily he could mope. Dean had one said in reference to Sam that: 'It must have been a broody sperm who was the Olympic swimmer that day.' For himself, Dean had always advocated it'd been the most adorable. Sam remembered almost puking over the imagery and a small smile began to light his lips.

Fiddling with keys, the orange sun of dusk beat down easing the tension in his neck and shoulders. He needed to let this go. For once, he had to be the rock.

On entering their room Sam called out, "Dude, you must have been a bit more Boris Karloff than I figured. You've scratched the dash of the Impala!" He grinned cheekily hearing a muffled curse issue from the bathroom. He was dropping the bags on the table to collect the cuff keys when something hit him heavy and hard at the base of the neck. He barely had time to notice the figure leaning over him before all went black.

To be continued ...

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A/N – Sorry this one was so angst - I woke up, couldn't get back to sleep, and so began typing again at 3.30 am. I knew starting to write fanfiction again would be bad for my sleeping habits!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

It was extremely unfair, Sam felt. We're they always the ones destined to get kidnapped, or go missing just as things started to get rough. Sam sometimes wondered if he didn't have a 'Where's Waldo Arrow' sticking out of the top his head on an astral plane somewhere that read 'bitch boy' or 'ass monkey'. At least he supposed, he was one up on Dean. His brother seemed to have upped the kidnap stakes lately; twice in two days. Great going champ, he thought.

The cloth tied around his eyes was tight and bit into his eyeballs. The pressure had created those swirling lights, where the nerve endings not sure how to interpret the strain of minimum light and additional force, created fireworks. Sam had a sickening memory of the line from King Lear: 'Out vile jelly', in reference to Gloucester's eyes. He seriously hoped that whoever was at the root of their current predicament was not an eye enthusiast. He rather liked having the ability to see.

His captor made a silent approach hidden behind the cover of his blind, before ripping the tie off. Sam blinked stupidly for a second and then lifted his eyes to a heavy chest, then up to a long thin face. A face that was was attractive in spite of its deathly pallor. _Well_, he amended his own though, _attractive if you liked skanky women_, that is.

Kate offered him a hungry smile. Her lips stretched in competition with the Cheshire cat.

"Hey Winchester. Nice to see you sweetie.' She ran a cool hand along his sweating brow, brushing back his bangs. 'We never got chance to chat much before, what with your brother doing his best to bait me... oh and your father poisoning me an all. I seem to have missed getting up close and personal with you.' She crouched down, the leather vest she was wearing pushed up her already emphasized cleavage. 'I hear you're the quiet one."

"You don't know much then do you?" If he'd have been Dean, the words would have been accompanied by a smirk, or a devilish twinkle to his eye. However, it being Sam, the words came out pitched and strangled.

"Oh baby, I know a lot more than you think. I know all about your little brush with the underworld. I know about your freaky little mind tricks.' She paused tilting her head to one side. 'I know how you're hiding a whole world of Darkness. Makes me almost wanna keep you alive... Almost."

"Where's my brother?" Always the first question. She slapped him hard in response. He ears ringing he scanned the room but found no trace of Dean.

"Oh he's here sweetling. I've just let my little girl play with him for a while. He still seems to be able to resist tearing into you somehow. Pretty strong your brother. Until we finish with him that is. And he drains you. Then I will have a broken puppy to torment forever. See, I did my homework on you Winchesters. I found out that at the root of everything, you were the baby. The most cherished person in poppa and big bro'chester's lives. And here you are, bound and tied up at my mercy. I hear your daddy's dead. Shame.' She sprang up, 'I wanted to kill him myself for what he did to save your sorry ass.' She hit the young man again, and a tickle of blood seeped from his lip. Her eyes went dark, and then flashed silver with rage and hunger at the smell. 'You have no idea the level of pain he caused me. He destined me to spend eternity alone. No one else could ever fill Luther's place.' With viper speed, she darted forward and brutally licked the trickle from his lip. 'No one. But you're so sweet, I can taste the fear and dormant demon within you, Sammy."

Despite the band of that clenched in his stomach at her words, he asked again, "What have you done to Dean, where is he?"

"He'll be here in a second. I wouldn't get to close though. My new pet bites."

Sam could make out the distant scuffles of something being dragged and kicked along the floor. He also caught the dull clicking of chains.

_My God. Dean._

"I brought him. I think he's ready now." Sam recognised the dark haired girl from the nest. He'd been too late to save her then. It all seemed like such a long time ago now. Any vestiges of humanity that had been retained within her that day had long since been tutored out of her by Kate. Her long brown hair fell in a soft veil around her face. Like Kate, she was beautiful. Unlike Kate, she had not taken to wearing S&M gear as everyday wear. Sam did not think any better of her appearance for that fashion plus, as her jeans and cotton top were streaked with blood. Dean's blood.

She yanked a long chain, pulling the mangled mess of a body into the room. Blackened, and bloody, Sam watched in horror as his brother crashed to the floor. His once rugged face was bestial, evermore terribly transformed than it had been in the witch's bedroom. He could see ragged, fierce bite marks covering all parts of Dean's exposed body. They were mostly littered around areas where the main veins and arteries were exposed, creating rings of torn flesh at his throat and wrists.

Empathy filtered through Sam as he stared at the pitiful creature the vampires had created from his brother.

"Dean..." He called at the end of a strangled breath.

His voice was like a beacon. It brought the attention of the youngest vampire to him.

The blank look his brother gave him vanished his sympathy, like rock salt to a spirit. The mournful emotion was quickly replaced by fear and the need for revenge.

"We ran off the witch you boys were chasing. Seems she hadn't realised who was after her. You two have quite the reputation these days, and' Kate breathed in, stretching the patent leather of her vest 'we got you. Upped our rep. The only thing my baby Luther got wrong was his feeling about revenge. Best feeling in the world. Shame about the little one we turned to catch ya, Dean. I quite liked her.' The other female vampire chuckled. 'However,' Kate continued with a glance at her, 'She was much more interesting as a display piece, don'tcha think?"

Kate ran a sharp knife against Sam's cheek, drawing a line of blood. It bubbled up within the thin deep cut and then ran down his cheek. He refused to flinch, even when she repeated the same gesture, only shallower, at his throat. Moving behind him, she quickly cut the tie. Sam didn't dare turn. In that moment, Kate and the girl seemed at lot more sane. He faced the kneeling Dean. His apparent calmness after such torture unnerved Sam. He could have coped with it better if Dean had been baying like a wolf. This cold, assured killer hardly even resembled his brother.

The women drew back towards the only exit, leaving the two brothers alone. The sound of the bolt of the iron sewer door being forced home echoed with a grinding thud. The silence left in their exit was then only disturbed by the soft tap of dripping water and the harsh gasps of deep breathing. Eye to eye, the vampire and boy watched.

To be continued ...


	5. Chapter 5

_Eye to eye, the vampire and boy watched._

Chapter Five

With no pressure to hold it at the other end, the chain once lassoed around Dean's neck fell. It landed in a mangled halo at his feet. As it dropped Sam's eyes followed it allowing him to rapidly examine the rest of Dean's body for injury.

Cuffs of torn skin ended above Dean's lean, clenched hands. The flesh above these bites was smooth and powerful. Not for the first time, Sam truly respected the tough frame his brother had built up over the years. This had never been more apparent to the younger man than now, when after two days without Dean's regular diet of junk and beer, any spare fat had been flayed away; leaving only the sinus and bone to protrude through his paper thin skin.

From Jekyll to Hyde, Dean looked truly monstrous in the dull light off the kerosene lamps.

Needing the distance, Sam drew back against a wall. He didn't want to be cornered by Dean, but if rushed he knew that there wouldn't be enough space to scramble away without it. Usually, the brothers were fairly evenly matched: what Sam made up for in height and shoulder strength, Dean competed with by better balance and speed. In human form, Dean would have been the hardest of fights, as a starving vampire, he was deadly.

The clammy heat of the wall leaked in through the thin white cotton of Sam's shirt. It added an unconformable element to the sweat, blood and heat pouring off his body.

Sam's mind worked double quick. If he succeeded in knocking Dean out, his brother would only wake up angrier and thirstier, and Sam was as sure as hell, that the Adam's Family girls were never going to allow him out of here alive. There were no other options, apart from giving in and that was no option at all. If he let Dean take him now, all they had ever fought for would be dust. Sam knew Dean would never be able to cope with the thought that he had killed him. It would destroy him entirely.

He had no plan, no future, only fear. There was no way out.

* * *

Slowly a small smile, then a grin spread across the terribly beauty of the vampire's face. Lean, needle tipped fangs pressed against his swollen lower lip as slender nostrils took in the perfumed air.

His vision was filled with light and dark shades of blood. The walls squirmed in a fervour of copper coloured mist and his prey swirled with temping warmth. He needed that warmth. Without it his cold heart and body would wither. This was the only thing that he knew now. That and the hunger.

Across the shadowed floor insanity and ecstasy were footsteps away. All he needed to do was take those steps.

Darting forward the young vampire missed, as his prey threw itself sideways. It had just managed to scramble to its feet as the beast within him flipped and lunged again. He felt his cold hands clenched on its warm arm clutching enough to bruise, until another arm elbowed his head back. It jarred his newly formed teeth back into their sockets for a moment. Shaking his head, he retreated. The blossoming pain from the blow drew his pearly canines out again with a growl.

His prey was better than he had thought. Strong and full of flavour. Their play made the yearning all the greater - made the need stronger still. Facing down his victim, he imagined his heart beating a phantom rhythm in tempo with the lovely thing. He could hear that little organ creating a symphony of music that delighted his desperate senses.

Oh how he needed that heart. Oh how he wanted that heart.

His dark ego called and he followed. A silent killer swooped out of his soul and pinned his much larger prey to the floor. He felt it struggle. Felt it pant. So glorious and so beautiful. He made ready to quench the pain. Anticipation was ripe within his body and so he lowered tearing fangs to the warm throat.

Inside his well of darkness he heard a name being called. An old name that used to mean something.

"Dean... please." It called softly, pleading.

Rearing up he met its eyes and stopped.

* * *

In a rush Dean's suppressed memory returned, conjuring up a retrospect of his entire life within seconds. The smooth lines and fear blighted eyes of Sam's face swirled in with these pictures, calling to a hunger deeper than that of the bloodlust. It was a need that had controlled him his whole life: the need to protect and to watch out for Sammy. This was the one ruling law, which governed Dean's very existence. Protect Sam. And here he was ready to rip his charge's throat out.

"No!' Dean screamed. He flung himself away from Sam, his former fluidity of movement crashing as he fought to run, aiming to put as much distance between himself and his torment. 'No, no, no!"

Fangs retreating, he scanned the long dank room. Trapped within the sewer and within his own body, there was no escape. He knew he couldn't hold back once the need called to him again. He would kill.

"Fuck!" Dean screamed after slamming his fists into a wall. So lost was he, that even his heightened hearing didn't catch the progression behind him, until a timid hand rested on his shoulder.

"Sammy, get off me." He twisted round, and slumped to the floor. His veins were like wildfire, consuming his body from the inside out. It was as though tiny shards of molten glass had infiltrated his system, and each piece seared deeper in to his skin with every pump of his heart.

The warm hand came to rest again, but Dean barely even registered its presence until the fingers moved to his chin, gently lifting it up.

"God, it hurts." He clenched his arms tight to his stomach, as though the additional pressure could force the pain away.

"Let me help you Dean.' Hesitancy clouded the words, though deep down Sam could feel his resolve building. He had never trusted his brother more than in this moment and it was now or never, if they we're to survive. Sam pulled his shirt collar aside, bearing the slim cut that Kate had made. 'Now, while you can still think."

Dean looked at his brother in confusion for a breath, before realisation formed. "Never! No, I mean it Sam. Get the fuck away from me."

"This is the only way. Just take what you need to get through this. Convince them that I'm gone, and maybe we have a chance."

Dean wanted to smack the earnest look of trust from his brother's face. God, how he wished he could control his anger enough to have a real good brotherly scrap, behead those bitches and then drown his sorrows with a cool beer. As it was, he was a hair's breath away from madness and his brother was closing the gap.

"Shut. The. Hell. Up." Dean narrowed his eyes to slits, his jaw grinding with each staccato word. He stared Sam out a moment, before weakening and dropping his gaze to his drawn up knees.

In response, Sam whipped the hand from his chin up around Dean's throat, swiftly pulling him into a headlock. Cat quick, Sam flipped Dean around, until his elder brother's back was pressed against his own chest. Dean felt a band of steel cutting off his breath at his throat and then, another broad arm fix itself around his mouth. Obtaining momentum off the wall, Sam's long legs kicked them both backwards, denying Dean any room to manoeuvre. Dean, immobilised and choking, ended looking up into Sam's face as he lay sprawled over his younger brothers lap.

"This is the only way Dean. Take it."

The measured look from those stormy eyes, peaking out from beneath the heavy fringe, settled the argument. The blood-lust could be denied no longer and fangs descending, Dean sank them unto the triangle formed by Sam's arm. Warm blood flooded in to his aching mouth and empty belly. It brought a relief Dean never knew could exist. Dean heard Sam hiss and the pressure at his windpipe lifted. The headlock folded and Dean brought his own hands up to hold the arm at his mouth in place.

In a massive tide, sweet heat poured throughout Dean's soul. The blood wasn't merely nourishment, it was life. It fed the dead part of him; the part that was killed in the moment he'd been turned. Emotion: pain, loss, grief and love were a maelstrom of sensations, and he could taste these in every swallow of his brother's blood.

To be continued...

* * *

A/N – sorry for the cliff hangers. I just can't help myself! Sorry, also for any grammar and typing errors, I try my best but I am a rubbish proof reader.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Few a few precious moments, the vampire gloried in the sensations to be tasted from the blood on which he gorged. The thirst was buried so deep within his body that he could almost drown himself in it. It was so tempting to feed and to keep on feeding, until there was nothing left to drink.

Long, wonderfully forfilling moments passed for the vampire. He surrendered his tired aching limbs and wounds to the hot sweetness racing throughout his veins. It created a powerful awareness of the body upon which he fed and beyond the emotions he could already sense, the vampire began to get a feel for the person underneath.

Suddenly, the vampire was filled with alarm. It threatened to steal the thrill. Couldn't he simply deny the flare of fear, and hide it somewhere in between the delicious pleasure and the exquisite agony? Oh, he was tempted to. But the forbidding feeling wouldn't let him go.

Reluctantly, he stilled his lapping tongue. His lips still pressed to the warm flesh, he slowed and rather than purposely ingesting, allowed the heart to pump it for him. It was unsatisfying really, especially when, after a few beats he began to notice it idle slightly. Like swatting away a fly, he tried to ignore the worry he felt over the lingering beats.

Part of him, the dark half, hated to be disturbed. This factor was contented to wallow in every sensation - to slide even deeper into the hot slumber, and never awake. It told him to push the arm closer, rip deeper and to take everything. It was gloriously tempting.

However, he was stronger than that. He knew without thinking why, that if that heart stopped, so would everything.

Deep inside, his soul began to lament at the hot blood still pouring into his mouth. This soft grief pleaded with the smothered, human part of him. Underneath the bloodlust, he yearned to wake from this terrible nightmare. Slowly, taking strength in the love and trust he could taste, he felt his awareness return. It was this trust that powered his fight to regain control of his body.

He gathered the happiest pictures and memories of times gone by. He searched for and found older images of childhood and sibling rivalry. But fresher than these golden memories were pictures of a man - a young man, handsome, gentle and caring. The picture of this man prevented the vampire in him from taking it all.

* * *

Dean's return to awareness was heralded by a sense of loss. He couldn't quite place what it meant, but he knew it was important. Had he had an hallucination? Was the sense of loss the fading shadow from a troubled dream?

Lifting laden lips, he collapsed back on his haunches. The view that hit him was like the horror of weeks earlier; of watching the light slowly slip from his brother's eyes, leaving them blank and closed. Leaving him Dean, alone. God, he couldn't got through that again. He had nothing left to trade.

"Sammy?" Dean brushed a gentle hand against his brother's ashen cheek. He then trailed it down to the pulse point at his throat. The beat was faint, but steady. Dean quickly ripped a strip from Sam's shirt to wrap it tightly over the ugly bite at his inner elbow, praying that he hadn't taken too much. It had been such a close call. Dean could remember that how in between breaths, the warring fractions of his body and soul had polarized his senses, until his mind screamed, threatening to tear him apart.

Dean put shaking hands up to his face, closing his eyes briefly, then opening them again to continue to stare at Sam. He looked so big and yet so small. Dean felt tears warmed by his brothers blood run down his cheeks, mingling in with the red at his lips. It caused pink, salty water to splash down on Sam's still, pale face.

"You leaking on me, jerk?" The words were barely audible, but Dean caught them. He suppressed a sob with a laugh as he leaned forward to pull back Sam's eye lids. His pupils were alarmingly dilated, but at least he was awake. Dean was thankful for that small mercy.

"No you frggin' girl. Its raining."

Dean felt sudden confusion hit him. The sensation was similar to that of being spoken to underwater and it took him a moment to realise that the feeling was not his own. He gave a brief grin down at Sam's spaced expression. Never before had he had such a keen awareness of his brother's emotions. Dean felt perhaps that this might be the one thing out of this whole stupid mess which might not really bother him. At least he would now know what the 'Incredible Sulk' was feelingwithout having to watch endless Oprah to catch the latest EMO depression trends.

"We're indoors? Arn't we? I thought..." Sam tried to lift himself, only to pale further and slip back to the floor.

"Easy there big guy. I'm just messing with you.' Dean said the words as softly as he could. 'We're getting out of here, asap. I just need to pull out all the Oscar nominee stops to do it. You with me?"

"Always." Sam voice was even fainter than before, and then he slipped back into blessed oblivion. Dean gently lifted his brother's head on to his knees, turning Sam's face in, to hide his soft breathing within his own chest. Dean only hoped he could fool the gruesome twosome long enough. His own hearing had dulled from being fed, but those two fuckers had already partaken of take-out at his expense. Praying he could buy them precious seconds, Dean began to keen.

* * *

Dean burst through the hospital doors, dragging Sam with him. He was quite capable of carrying his brother over his arms, but he didn't think the picture was quite dignified enough for two top notch, bad ass hunters; even if it was him, carrying Sam.

"Help? Shit! Someone, please, my brother's been attacked. His lost a lotta blood.' Dean held Sam drooped over one arm and grabbed a white coated woman with the other. 'Please!" The security guards at their station stood up menacingly at his abrupt tone. Only to be waved down by the woman. The ER staff were used to dealing with overwrought family members.

"Okay, sir. You need to calm down." She had a low, gruff voice. Any other time and place, that voice would have had him panting. As it was, her attention was now solely focused on Sam and this suited Dean just fine. The doctor, her name badge read Dr. R. Tyler, carefully manoeuvred Sam to a chair. He was still out. She took his pulse from his loose limbed arm and whatever she discovered there made up her mind.

"What's his name?2

"Sammy. Sam. He's my brother. He's lost a lot of blood..." The words came out in a rush, but before he could finish she asked:

"How long ago? What happened? Trolly!" Dean glanced away from his brother's pale face for just a few seconds to watch the porter's approach with a bed, relieved beyond words that they were taking notice.

"About an hour. Something bit him. We were in the forest, and I came back and found him..." Dean trailed off with what he hoped was suitably confused anguish. She met his eyes briefly, before turning back to her patient.

"Alright. We'll get him sorted. Don't you worry, Mr?" The doctor helped the nursing staff move Sam onto the trolley.

"Dean. My name's Dean."

"Okay then Dean, first things first. Please follow us through and then we will need a medical history for Sam.' She smiled at him, 'You can stay with him for now, but we made need to kick you out for a little while when we give treatment. That would be a good time for you to call anyone you need." Dean was about to reply that there was no one to call, when an idea began to form. He watched her lips move as she asked more questions and repeated assurances, but he'd stopped listening. He began to plot as he followed Sam's trolley through to the cubicles.

* * *

Bobby answered the phone on the second ring. He'd been expecting a call from the boys for a couple of days now. They'd promised, once finished with the witch they would call. Long hours without contact in this game usually spelled bad news. And, as much as he knew caring for people could get you hurt, Bobby had come to love the Winchester boys as if they were his own. Especially Dean. A young man who could care that much for another but so little for himself needed someone to look out for him.

"Bobby?"

"Dean..." The elder man breathed the word with a sigh of relief, until he registered the distress in Dean's voice.

"You both okay? Is something wrong with Sam?"

"God Bobby. Argh! Shit. I need you to come meet us. The witch's gone... and fuck. I can't explain over the phone. Sam's in ER with blood loss and every thing's just gone ass bound."

"Okay. Ellen and I'll come meet you. What'da we need to pack?"

"Dead man's blood... bitching big blades, oh, and some hard core sun cream and shades."

"What for? What happened to the witch. Where'd the vampires come from?"

"For once Bobby, I'm gonna channel Dad and keep you need to know, until you get here. Please bring the stuff."

Dean reeled of clipped directions, barely listening to Bobby's 'Alright,' before hanging up.

* * *

Bobby put down the receiver with shaking hands. Vampires? He hadn't hunted vamps since he was the boys' age.

_I'm getting way too old for this shit._

Bobby just knew he was going to be in for a long night at the Winchesters' expense. Again. It was simply a damn good job, for they're sake, he valued them as much as he did. A small smile built upon his grizzled face, replacing the worry lines with something much more charming. It was this charm that attracted the red-haired woman sitting at his kitchen table to him.

Ellen sauntered up to him and asked in her slow drawl. "The boys need help?"

Bobby nodded. "Sam's hurt. Dean's rattled... this is something they may not be able to handle alone... call Jo. We may need a spare."

Ellen tilted her head to the side, and nodded. "Okay."

To be continued...

* * *

A/N's

Sorry this was a hard chapter to write. I will fill in the missing scene I promise. Oh and I'm not a D/J shipper, however, I do like Ellen and playing with Jo's head.

Thanks for reading and reviewing.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Disclaimer – Some of the lines within this chapter are directly taken from AHBL pt2, and the lyrics are from the 'Passenger' by Iggy Pop.

* * *

Sam was dreaming. He could tell. In some way he knew that his real body was warm and physically lying down, but in the dream he was sitting up, his long legs extended out in front of him. His mind struggled for a second trying to fix the reality of being enveloped in thick blankets alongside the smooth, plush leather of his dream seat. He waivered for a moment, balanced on the misty borderline between consciousness and sleep, until he decided to follow in the path of the dream, wherever it might take him.

In doing so, he found that he was reclining in the passenger seat of the Impala listening to Dean's Iggy Pop tape.

'_Oh, the passenger  
He rides and he rides  
He sees things from under glass  
He looks through his windows eye...'  
_

Sam turned to look and he found Dean was there beside him, humming along to the tune. With one look at Dean's face, Sam wanted to ask what was troubling his brother. He made a few attempts to say the words and although he could quite clearly hear himself asking in his own mind, he noticed that his ears didn't pick the sounds up. His dream self decided to drop it. Dean would tell him what was wrong when he was ready to do so, and so calmly Sam settled back into the song.

_'He sees the things he knows are his  
He sees the bright and hollow sky  
He sees the city asleep at night  
He sees the stars are out tonight  
And all of it is yours and mine  
And all of it is yours and mine  
Oh, lets ride and ride and ride and ride'_

As the song faded out, so did Dean's humming. In the lull that followed, Sam could hear Dean calling to him.

_'How am I supposed to live without you? What am I supposed to do? Sammy? What am I supposed to do?'_

Puzzled, Sam turned to look directly at Dean, as he, in turn, stared straight ahead out of the windscreen. Sam flicked his gaze out - noting that they were on some road surrounded by fog and moonlight - back again to his brother. The younger man opened his mouth to speak, but again no words would form. Instead, he thought about what he wanted to say, and sent back the image of himself and The Yellow Eyed demon. He'd lied to Dean before, unable to bring himself to tell his brother that his own body held the blood of a demon. The demon.

_'Does this mean I have... demon blood in me? She knew you? Mom!' _

Dean didn't acknowledge the thought. Sam couldn't tell if it was because he was unable hear it, or if it was because it made no difference to how Dean loved him. The elder Winchester moved his hand from the steering wheel, and placed it carefully over Sam's as if answering his question. Sam vaguely felt a pain brew in his other hand, but the heat coming off Dean's seemed to anaesthetise the pain better than any drug. Dean let it rest there for a second, before bringing it back to the wheel.

Calmed by the soft purr of the engine they drove on in contentement for a while, until new words, and this time pictures began to form in Sam's mind. They were horrible images and they caused him to twist round to stare at Dean in shock. Dean simply contiuned to focus on driving.

Sam sobbed at blood and pain he caught from the flashes. Kate and her little buddy had used teeth and nails to rip into Dean. They'd tormented his brother over and over, saying that they could break him. Telling him that striving to protect his little brother all his life was as waste, as now they were going to make Dean tear Sam apart. These were Dean's memories, and Sam was seeing them played out like at a drive-in. He felt terribly voyeuristic and fought to pull his mind away, gently slowing the crackled Dean reel and finally making it stop. This lasted for a breath, for it only to start again, but this time with a Sammy production. This movie showed himself being tied up in a chair as Kate laughed at, and hit him. The scene then flicked to showing himself trying to face down the raving beast that they had turned Dean in to. Watching the pictures, he could recall the soft gasp of pain he'd felt, as Dean's fangs pierced his skin, and then only the blackness. This darkness reached out of the film and swam through his mind, threatening to swallow him whole. He floated on the verge...

His body jumped as though he had fallen. However, instead he found himself back in the Impala, Dean seemingly happy to continue driving on in silence. Without the tape playing, and with no conversation, it left Sam's mind to further wander, and when the encroaching pictures formed again he decided to embrace, rather than fight them. In doing so, he no longer watched Dean's torment, he became Dean.

_A scream ripped from his throat, and he put as much fear and grief into it as he could muster. Over and over again the ragged sound seared from his soul as he cradled Sam's prone body in his arms. Despite him emphasising the emotions for the vampires benifit, they were not fabricated. Dean was afraid, and he mourned the condition he'd put Sam in. These two were going to pay for what they had made him do. _

_Dean heard the bolt wrench in the door, and then the sound of the two female vampire's laughter as they approached him. They're stupid giggling allowed him to reach towards the lamp, under the cover of Sam's billowing shirt. The heat scorched his palm, but this pain was nothing compared to what he was already feeling. He waited, still crying but prepared, until they were close enough... and then he slung the burning lamp straight into Kate's face. He had never been so satisfied to see the melting features of another person, and it filled his heart with unholy joy. Springing up, he turned to her little playmate. The younger female vampire was at a loss of what to do as her mistress wallowed in agony on the floor. She dithered for a moment, before running to the door. Dean raced to the abandoned chair to which, Sam had been previously tethered, and then sent it crashing into her neck. She fell badly and Dean had the great pleasure of hearing her skull crack. _

_The murderous instinct to finish the job gurgled up inside, and for a few uneven breaths the happy images of revenge and dismemberment twirled within, until a soft moan brought order._

It took Sam a few moments to realise that the prone form abandoned on the far side of the floor was his own body. He could see that his arm was stretched out and had been crudely bandaged with rag. It was the realisation that the pain in his arm was real that pulled him from Dean's memories and also from the Impala.

Muttering softly his dreams ceased to trouble him and Sam settled back into normal sleep.

* * *

Night had now firmly settled into day. The hospital windows were flooded with white light which, only a few gloomy corners had managed to escape so far. However, the little patch of sunlight was getting closer, and Dean didn't know how much further he could insert himself into the wall without looking totally crazy. The old woman with her grandson across the way had already given him a filthy look, and his excellent hearing caught the muttered 'Junkie... been smoking that shit.' If weed constituted being a junkie, then Dean suspected that half the teenagers in the world would be under lock and key from this blue-rinsed prison guard. The eldest Winchester pitted her poor grandson; the fey thing was far to small next to his mammoth of a grandmother.

Dean smiled at her with his most winning smile. The sour look, and massive arm which, came to encircle her grandson made Dean chuckle. At least the old dear had her priorities straight – watch out for your family.

Turning his attention from the two, Dean had been glad for the distraction they'd offered. It allowed him a brief respite from worrying about how painful the sunburn was going to be. Furthermore, it had temporarily stopped his mind from being allowed to wander down even darker paths: like reliving the sensation of drinking his brother's blood; supplying Sam's past medical details like an obituary; or, watching from behind the curtain as the nurses and doctors had cleaned Sam's wounds. The youngest nurse had cooed over the bruising to Sam's head and body. Dean figured that Sam needed a little TLC and had been glad to wait until she'd finished, before muscling in to his little brother's side.

He remembered approaching his sleeping brother's still form, and placing his now warm hand over Sam's cold one, while the young nurse had fixed a drip to the other. Dean had fallen to his knees at this point, his eyes dropping to the smudged linoleum floor. He no longer needed to look to see - the scene of Sam so close to death, and because of him would forever be branded into Dean.

Internally, he sighed. There was nothing he could do about it now, although he realised that he would have to face the guilt soon. Instead, he decided to focus on Sam's every breath and his gradually strengthening heartbeat. The repetitive rhythm gave Dean the courage to stand. Picking at the opaque plastic name tag around Sam's wrist, he said 'They're gonna pay for this. Their deader than the spiral perm, Sammy. You just lie here and get better. They've given me this... power. And now, they're gonna face the consequences.'

Dean then retrieved his cell from his pocket, and rang Bobby.

To be continued...

* * *

A/N – This chapter took on a life of it's own. Next time... Bobby joins us, and the hunt is on...


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

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-

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Bobby and Ellen found both brothers together in Sam's treatment room. It was a hygienic and sterile atmosphere that greeted the newcomers, but one fairly standard for hospitals the world over. The only unusual aspect to this room, as opposed to the attempt to light and warm most, was that the blinds on the windows had been shuttered as far as was possible. This only allowed the smallest strips of sun to illuminate the room and its occupants.

The younger Winchester was stretched out over a small cot, looking like a refugee from one hell of a bar fight. Ellen hissed in sympathy at the large bruises scattered across his exposed chest and up and under his bandaged arm. His other arm was held down and surgically taped up to a drip; a fine line of deep red feeding from it and into him. The red haired woman pitted the poor state of his battered skin, and reached one hand out to his shoulder. Despite the circumstances, Ellen couldn't help but admire how the slatted afternoon sun glinted off his youthful chest and stomach. Sam was a handsome boy despite the bruises, and over time a regard for both lads had reached in and come to expose that protective instinct in her. She hated to see him this way and was at a loss to know what words to murmur in comfort. Sighing, and turning to Dean, she stopped. Until getting a proper look at his brother, she'd thought Sam looked rough. In doing so now, especially in the low light, the elder boy looked like a death omen.

'Dean honey, you okay? Did they get you too?' She suddenly found she was looking into haunted green eyes and it reminded her of the first time she'd met this vibrant young man as now, like then, a whole world of grief and torment marred his direct gaze.

Bobby was already at his side, messing about with the bags he'd brought. Singer's, conversation was often monosyllabic and pitted with 'Aww hell,' with a few 'Damn's' in, for good measure. He was using both of these choice phrases now to perfectly describe the situation. He shuffled about with his belongings for a few more moments, until he dropped the bags, and repeating Ellen's gesture to Sam, put out a hard, calloused hand to Dean's shoulder. Digging his fingers in deep, he wanted to shake Dean out of his silence. Despite not being the one unconscious and in bed, Dean appeared almost as catatonic.

'We got the stuff. Is he gonna be okay?' Bobby asked finally.

Dean shook himself out it, and nodded his head once. He was pale and dangerously thin. He had backed a chair, and himself into the darkest corner of the room, facing his brother's bed, like most people would the TV. Bobby couldn't guess at what viewing pleasure could be gained from watching the long thin form of Sam, unless it was simply to assure himself that he was still alive and breathing. Sam lying there so still and pale was an unhappy echo of resting his corpse on that flee pit of a mattress in Cold Oak. It was not something Singer wished to do, or see again, ever. Dean had been a hollow shell without Sam.

'Thanks,' Dean replied eventually, his lips sticking to his teeth, 'And yeah. They got me too. Not as bad though. They left Sammy for dead.'

'Vampires?' Dean sighed, and nodded again. He stood up now, and cat stretched, his eyes never straying from his brother.

'Ellen, Bobby. I need to go finish this, but I need help. Would one of you stay? With Sam?' Although he asked both, Dean's eyes strayed to Ellen. He didn't mean for it to be the woman to stay and be safe. Either staying or going could be dangerous. Kate must know that this was the nearest hospital and could turn up at any time. Dean just knew how damned good Ellen was with the rifle he could see peaking out from under her coat, and he could use Bobby's hunter's experience out in the field to finish this.

'Sure I will, honey. I laced the shells in DMB. If those son's of bitches think they're gonna get your brother, they'd better think again.' And her reply was answered with the briefest of smiles.

'They're two women. Both dark haired. One's called Kate; the leader. Dad, Sam and me cleared the rest of their nest a while ago, but we didn't have time for these two. It was just before...' grief threatened to steal his voice, 'We got the colt from them. Kate killed Elkins, so you can tell these are not your next-door neighbour veggie, yoga vamps. Kate's crazier than a shit house rat.' Dean watched as Ellen settled herself into his vacated chair, and then turned to see Bobby staring at him.

'What did ya need the cream and glasses for son?' Bobby asked speculatively. Dean met his look with a challenge.

'I'm gonna drag those dead chicks out of whatever hell hole they are in and I don't want them to go extra crispy on the ride over.'

'Your not just gonna kill 'em? Damnit Dean, we're not butchers. Your daddy taught you to hunt, not be a torturer.'

'They're gonna pay for what they have done, I swear it to God,' anger laced his words, 'But...' he breathed out and continued, 'I am also all for simply getting the job done. I just need know something first Bobby. I've got questions, and I wanna ask them in a place of my choosing - so if they do have any buddies out there, I have a chance at hiding their sent for a long as it takes for me to get the info I want.'

Dean walked over to Sam and gently punched his leg. He then bent down to Sam's ear and whispered, 'I'm gonna fix this dude. You just wake up, and we'll be as before.'

As Dean straightened, Bobby asked 'Is this about the colt? I thought you said that Elkins had it the longest. Wouldn't you get more information trying to track what happened to his papers? It will make this crappy mess a lot easier to clean up if all we have to do is try and kill 'em.'

'It's not about the colt. It's personal.' Dean turned away, effectively ending the conversation, and ignoring the hurt look on the elder man's face. 'Take care of Sam, Ellen. When he wakes up get him to call me. I'll turn the ringer off, but will try and answer if I can.'

'Sure thing. I left a message for Jo. She didn't pick up, as usual. If she does come, shall I get her to call you?'

'If she does, sure. I'll give her the co-ordinates of where I am planning to go. Tell her not to try and follow me until then, though. This has to plan out exactly. No mistakes. Tell her, she has to follow my orders, or she doesn't follow at all.' Dean reached and grabbed Bobby's bags. 'I gotta take a leak first. Meet you out front. We're taking the Impala.'

'And here I was thinking that the John impersonation was over with on the phone.' Bobby said behind Dean's back as he swept out of the door. He shared a look with Ellen before following him out.

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To be continued...


	9. Chapter 9

A/N - To all of you who are still reading and reviewing this - thank you ever so much! I do take some of your tips on board - Dean is going to get a bit scarier, and Bobby will find out... eventually, but lets have a bit of a play with them all first. Thanks again!

Chapter 9

Bobby glanced over at Dean as the younger man took the small town corner at the Miami speed limit. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was different. Dean was different. Bobby had always known that underneath the 'devil may care' attitude, Dean was rapidly becoming as lethal as his father. He hadn't worried too much about this, because it had obviously been balanced by Dean's fierce love and desire to protect Sam. However now, looking to the the smooth marble of his jaw and shoulders, all Bobby could see was a killer. The thirst for revenge had finally cursed the remaining free member of the Winchester Family.

'Are you gonna tell me where we're going, or are the traffic cops gonna shoot us out first?'

Dean met his level gaze for a second, before easing up on the accelerator. ''We're going back to where they held us. I need to pick up their trail. Wishful thinking would have them where I left 'em... Kate's face all messed up after a kiss from a kerosene lamp,' he grinned bitterly, 'And, the other one smashed up on the floor. But hey, Santa only comes once a year... poor guy.'

Bobby didn't laugh, but added, 'But... as we both know, vermin heal pretty quick.'

'Yup. Especially if they've managed to feed. So, we go back. See if we can find where they've gone, following the trail of blood. Not as nice as bread crumbs, but it will do.'

'And then?'

'Then we taken 'em. Before we knew where the witch was hiding out, we checked all the funky places first. Sam and I found these storage yards, real nice quiet and away from people - if you discount the few dogs and watchmen. I figured a healthy supply of dope to their coffee and food would do the trick. They get the best night of work ever, and I get my answers.'

Bobby rose bushy eyebrows to enquire further, but Dean only flashed him his tight-lipped grin.

Instead Bobby asked, 'Do you think that there may be more than just the two girls?'

'Not really, it is just a precaution.' but something dark settled in his eyes which made Bobby think there was more too it.

'Dean?' The younger man glanced at him again, and then sighed.

'Okay, I don't wanna spend longer in there than is necessary. It wasn't a vacation in the first place. I'll just scope it to check that they have gone, and we go from there.'

'And then?'

'Fish gotta swim, birds gotta die.'

The manhole cover was missing when Bobby and Dean got there; although, Dean's exiting bloody hand prints and the faint aroma of burnt meat still remained. Bobby settled back to scan the deserted streets as Dean retrieved his knife from his waist and dipped it the the jar he'd already placed in the ground. The congealing liquid dripped off the end of the blade and fell silently down the manhole. With his gaze lost in the surroundings, Singer missed the flash of silver, and the darkening of his partner's face in response to that dark red drop. Standing, Dean nodded to Bobby once and taking a deep breath, descended down the ladder. Bobby watched him with one eye, until the white of his forehead disappeared. He noticed that the smell was strongest nearest the hole and took a few steps away. Being a seasoned hunter, Bobby didn't gag, just coolly swallowed the bile that rose up in his throat. Breathing deeply, he often wondered how he ended up in these situations.

'Damn Winchesters.'

For long moments he alternated between watching the hole and standing guard; always listening in for Dean's return. He pulled his cap down further, shadowing his face from the early evening sun, and then moved to adjusting his battered hunter's jacket which, covered the prepared crossbow. The parade of kids returning from school practice, and parents from the office had dried up, leaving the concrete street a ghost town. As much as he hated to admit it, everything about this hunt made him nervous, especially the fact that Dean was hiding something.

'Bobby!'

'Hell! Dean, Jesus.'

'Getting a little jumpy there in your old age, Singer.' The smirk that covered Dean's face almost banished the shadow that had been lurking there since the hospital.

'I ought to throttle you.'

'Ya said that before. You coming? They exited elsewhere. Didn't follow Sam and me out. Damn, but it was hard dragging his heavy ass up this ladder.'

Bobby moved the bolt from the bow and slung it up over his shoulder. Grumbling about damn stupid kids, Winchesters and wishing he had a beer, he knelt and followed Dean down.

'Smell only gets worse, so I'd breath through your nose.'

* * *

Ellen didn't adjust the lighting in the room, even when the nurse brightly told her that just because he was unconscious, didn't mean Sam wouldn't appreciate the beautiful evening. Ellen had simple glared until the young woman left in a huff, and then settled her body more comfortably in the chair. She wondered about how many times she'd done this now, with one hunter or another. It had started with her spending nights watching over Bill after he'd return home, beaten and bruised from a hunt; to caring for countless others who'd spent the night curled up in the back of the Roadhouse. It was always different. Some would simply need a stiff drink to clear the shock, others would need bandaging, stitching, or worse, the coroner. And then their attitudes would be different: some would brawl and shout and others would sob and retreat into themselves. But, through it all, there Ellen Harvelle would be, trying and pick up the pieces. It wasn't easy, especially when they were as young as Sam. Poor kid, she thought, he can't even escape this life - he's cursed to it.

She rubbed a tired hand across her face, closing her eyes for a second. A footstep just inside the room had them shooting open again and her jumping alert. The shotgun came up and out from under her coat to point directly at her daughter.

'Johanna Beth, you scared the hell outta me!'

'Shouldn't be so twitchy Mom, what if I'd have been a nurse? You'd have been the the psych ward faster than a jack rabbit.'

Ellen just stared at her daughter, drawing in the sight. She looked lean rather than thin these days, and her hair had been cropped to a more practical style. Ellen wasn't sure if these signs of maturity were a positive thing or not. The only thing she was sure of, was that the blank look Jo cast over Sam wasn't good. The last time she'd had news from the girl was just after Sam had been possessed. Jo had almost caved and come home then, terrified after the awful attack that had scarred Sam just as much as her.

After an awkward few seconds where she continued to stare at the boy, Jo stumbled forward and placed herself in Ellen's arms.

'He looks a lot smaller than I remember.' The words were mumbled into Ellen's shoulder. The hitch in the poor imitation of her mother's drawl made Ellen crush Jo tighter still.

'It's aright sweet. I'm here, and you know it wasn't Sam. He won't hurt you.'

Jo moved her head from the curve of her mother's neck, to rest it gently on her shoulder, tilting it to look Sam directly in the face.

'He is awake.' She said flatly.

To be continued...


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Discharging himself from the overprotective nurses and female doctor had not been easy. They'd had a cutie to coddle. And double plus, he had a hottie for a brother. They boys sure cheered up the day to day mundaneness of ingrowing toe nails and glued kids. There was something just so removed and perfect about the dark, screw you smile of the elder Dean, and the gentle softness of Sam's. It had been a lottery in the staff room for who was going to sponge bath the younger man down. That was until the elder boy had calmly told them he would take care of his brother. Despite the disappointment, this dutiful and delicate care had the younger interested staff smiling softly. It'd had the elder ones itching to feed the pretty stranger up.

It had been a bit of a blow when the younger brother woke up and was ready to leave. Not prepared to give up their fan girl/boy mantra just yet, they had used every trick in the book to get him to stay. Not that Sam had been aware of the ulterior motive. In normal circumstances, he might have had a clue from the wicked twinkle in the discharge nurses eyes. However, the thought of Dean tackling the Drac'chicks alone, left him high on a dire sense of panic.

'Thanks for all you've done. I'm fine, really.' he said, taking hasty steps towards the exit.

'Is your brother not coming to collect you?'

'No need. My Aunt, and cousin are gonna watch me till he gets back... they live near here. Thanks again.'

He darted out of the reception before more questions about what had happened?, had the police been called?, were wildlife services aware of the attack?, or any other tactics that could be utilized to delay his departure were thought of. Luckily for him, Dean had fielded the questions over who, or what had attacked Sam by saying he knew nothing. Only that he, Dean was unsure of the location as he had been too freaked out to remember anything after finding Sam lying unconscious in a pool if his own blood. It had held them off long enough for Dean to not be bothered, and for Sam to be able to make a quick exit. But now, sitting in the rear of the rental car he almost wished he had stayed in bed. He'd been spared the need for small talk by the doctor's fussing over him when he'd woke, and now, Sam realised that it had been a small reprieve for Jo's small figure sat stiffly in the front seat. Each of her single worded, emotionless responses to his questions made him feel as bad as he had a few months ago when the flashes of what Meg had done, returned to him.

It was horrible to see the girl with whom he had once knowingly traded looks behind the tense, pissed off Dean and Ellen, almost flinch when he approached the car door. She was scared of him. Realistically, he knew it was Meg - or whatever the demon's name might be - who'd controlled his body throughout. Nevertheless, deep down, he couldn't help thinking that it had all been an insight into what he one day might become. The thought of this terrified him, but not as much as the fear of his brother going to hell, or first, trying to top himself.

'Dean said to call him as soon as you could.'

Irritated that Ellen had not shared that information sooner, he pressed the short cut key for Dean's cell.

'Sammy?' His brother was walking, his pace echoing dully in the background.

'Hey man. Whoa, what a day, huh?'

'Sam.' The relief in that one word made Sam smile. It was good to hear.

'Hey Dean. You still with me?' It was a code; Sam had guessed from the calm way Ellen spoke about Dean's revenge hunt that he'd not shared his new condition with the women or Bobby. He knew Dean wouldn't. Unless he'd been after them to finish the job he'd wanted Sam to start.

'I'm not hell bound just yet, and yeah, I'm still with you. Dude, man I..., I'm sor..., well, you know.'

'I do. We'll talk later. Is Bobby still with you? And where are you? I don't trust you not do anything stupid – er, without me.' he said quickly.

'Like I'm gonna let you follow. Bobby and I can handle this. You need to rest. Too many life or death situations have had your name all over 'em just recently Sammy.' So he had his SuperBro cape back on, fine. Sam supposed he could handle this easier than suicidal, desperate Dean. In this game at least he knew the rules, and how to cheat.

'Whatever... where are you?'

'Dude, go to the Motel and stay there. I bet you couldn't go two rounds with a kitten at the moment, so tell Ellen to keep that sweetie she packed loaded and to watch your back.' Sam hated to admit it, but just getting into the car had taken him a huge amount of effort; his muscles felt like jello melting in the sun.

'My back's fine. Besides, Jo is with us now – five against two. Much better odds.'

'Jo's there? What she say to you.' Sam glanced at the young woman in the front.

'She asked for co-ordinates. She wants a hunt.'

Dean simply uh-huh'd to that, then begged, 'Sam... please. Just stay there.'

'Dean.' the younger man said sternly, drawing the word out, and even though Sam knew Dean couldn't see him, he pulled The Face. His chin tilted to the side and his head lifted, his eyes widening; he now resembled a half starved puppy crossed with stubborn two year old. It was an expression that won every time.

Sam heard the sigh, and then the peevish, 'Fine. I'll message them to you.'

* * *

'We walked back and drove the car to here. They didn't come up the same manhole we did. Moved closer to the forest underground and attacked two poor joggers,' the flashing blue lights of the police and ambulances could be seen even at this distance in the dark, 'and I think they went this way.' Dean pointed down a path in the under bush which, was littered with empty beer cans and discarded tires and shopping carts.

'I've never tracked a vampire. Do they give off EMF?' Jo asked. She had been quiet with both brothers, but seemed happy to sidle closer to Dean than Sam.

'I don't know. I don't think so. They will need somewhere to steal a car, or find somewhere to rest. I think that they will stay put for now though. Dawn is only a few hours away, and as much as it only stings, it makes you feel really droopy... if your a vampire that is.' Dean flashed a brilliant smile at the blond for a second to cover his slip, but his gaze moved quickly on to his brother who shot him a sympathetic look back.

'We will go in two, two and Me.'

'Your not going on your own.' Sam moved forward, ignoring the step away that Jo slowly took, and grabbed the knife from Dean. The extra few inches that he'd gotten at eighteen where still a blessing as he stared down at his brother.

'Yes, I am. I'm scout. And you can slap that puppy expression of your face, bitch. You're with Bobby. Ellen and Jo are together and for once, you're gonna follow what I say.'

'Don't do anything rash.' This came from Bobby as he handed over a crossbow with a set of blooded bolts. 'You take the lead and message Sam and Jo if you find them first. We will do the same visa versa.'

Ellen peered over at them from the map stretched out over the Impala hood. 'There is a cave system that runs near here. Perfect place to hide away from the sun. I'd head there first Dean.' Dean nodded in her direction then came back to looking up at his brother. Whatever Sam saw in his eyes made him weaken and agree.

'Okay.' Sam said but with a meaningful final push to his elder brother's shoulder. 'Be careful.'

'Faster pussy cat, kill, kill.' Dean grinned back, more like himself than he had felt in days.

* * *

The bravado about hunting on his own left as soon as he could no longer smell Sam. A small part of him was amazed that he was beginning to so calmly accept these new enhancements. Back at the car, he'd been able to tell from the sound of their heartbeats and the scent of their sweat what each of the others were thinking: Ellen had been apprehensive about the hunt, but every time she had looked at, or passed near her daughter a calm release had soothed her; Bobby on the other hand had a regular heartbeat but was sweating from all the walking and climbing, an older man settled in his game but slightly out of practice; Jo's heartbeat was erratic around both him and Sam, her scent being more fear stained by Sam, but aroused around him. It wasn't something he was going to act on. He liked the girl, and she looked a whole lot better these days, but it was her clingyness and her angst that he didn't have time for. He also didn't like the fact she couldn't forgive Sam. He knew it wasn't a logical fear that she was holding onto when it came to his brother. Emotion wasn't logical, neither was love. Unfortunately for Jo there were only two things in this world Dean loved, and she wasn't one of them.

The sights and smells of the night creatures in the bushes, going about their business would have made the walk an interesting one, if it wasn't for the overlying aroma of blood in the air, and the individual scents he could detect of the two vampires that had masterminded his transformation.

'Forget about the storage yards. If I can find a nice quiet cave round here sweethearts...' he whispered.

A flash of tenderness ran through his legs and the fear of having to feed again made him tense. It took him a moment to realise that the weakness was a residual effect of having fed from Sam and it was his brother's struggle he could sense. Sam was going to have a tough time of it, getting up this track. The guilt over what had happened still threatened the elder Winchester, but hearing from and seeing Sam had lessened that pain somewhat. He guessed he now understood how his little brother had felt after that doctor's spirit had screwed with his head in the asylum. Sam was right, their lives were weird.

Distracted by sorting his own bodily responses from those of his brother's delayed his response to the sudden overpowering scent of the two vampires. The crossbow came up and he shot one off into the younger woman. She screamed and clawed at the poison entering through the wound dropping to her knees. Before he could react further, Kate round-house'd him and then knee'd his balls. The crossbow bounced away and broke.

'You fucking nearly ruined my face.' Winded, Dean straightened and looked directly at the other vampire. Her features were messed up, but a whole lot better than he'd expected; kind of like a female Freddy.

'You think that hurt? You tried to make me kill my brother. You just friggin' wait. Pain is gonna love your company when I get through with you.' They circled one another, their vampire night vision turned the world into layers of silver, pierced through with white and red.

'Your father killed Luther... that pain your feeling now, triple it and then you might comprehend what I feel now.' She dived in, scratching along his jaw, before he jabbed her one in the side. They danced back, both being careful not to fall over the younger girl who moaned weakly in the dirt.

'As if I give a fuck. You made your bed when you chose to kill people. There are others...' He punched her, and she pulled a knife and rammed it in his arm. 'Shit!' Blood dripped from the wound, and he tightened his jaw against feeling the pain as they separated again.

'Your thinking of those shit eating cattle freaks... we hunt that crap down for fun, boy.'

'And my brother saves them.'

'So, you still think you can deny this honey? Huh?' She watched him with hungry eyes.

Dean dived forward, and in doing so rolled to the side, coming up with one of the tainted crossbow bolts.

'For as long as I can.' He shot her his deadly grin. Dean ran then, tripping her and pinning her to the tree with the bolt through her mid section. He could feel her body gasping against his, sense her blood and feel her pain. Almost touching her lips with his, he asked, 'Unless you tell me a way I can reverse this.'

'You think you can change back? Ha!' Blood mixed in with her spittle as he twisted the bolt in her belly, forcing it further into the tree. 'Too late Winchester. There is no going back.'

Dean growled and reached for the laced knife in the sheath at his belt. 'Tell me, or I run this down your cheek. I wonder if this will scar that face of yours even more?'

'There is no changing back. You are what you are.'

'There has to be!' Instead of running it down, he stabbed her with it, right beside her mouth.

Gargling through the blood, she answered, 'It was too late the moment you drank from Sammy. Tasting human blood for the first time, it makes this a one way ticket buddy.' Her laugher was ugly. He stepped back from her in shock, pulling the thick knife away.

'You fucking bitch!'

He channelled his rage and stormed over to the younger female vampire and pressing the knife to her throat he stared back at Kate. 'You should never have underestimated me.' With both hands, he forced it down, through cartilage and bone. The vampire's body jerked limply and then was still.

Face ruined, Kate felt empty until an unholy glee burbled up inside. She was going to die, after all these years but, she didn't care. She hung against the bolt pinning her to the tree. She watched as Dean approached her. Surprisingly, she grinned, 'Luther still got it wrong though, revenge is worth it!' She spat in his face.

'If there is one thing I learnt in life, it's that revenge so isn't sweet.' He pressed the gory blade to her throat, just above her jutting collar bones.

'Oh really? What are you doing here then?' she fought to get the words out as the sharp edge cut in to the first layer of skin, 'Such a pity... still messing around here then... your brother, and the bear with him... will be dead.' Dean stopped, and went to pull the blade away, but with supernatural strength, Kate grabbed his hands and snapped her neck forwards onto the blade. It slipped through her wind pipe, gullet and spine to the skin beyond. Her head balanced precariously on her neck for a few moments until it fell, accompanied by Dean's 'No!'

To be Continued...

* * *

A/N

Again and again, thank you all for the reviews, only one more chapter and the epilogue to go now. A great deal of thanks to Anon – love your reviews, I only hope you will enjoy the final ending to this.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Then...

Sam trailed a little behind Bobby. Tagging along had not been a good idea. He should have listened to Dean and stayed at the motel. He was friggin' creamed. Every dip in the track threatened to send him tumbling, and overhead, every noise had him twisting to the side adding to his already spinning head. If he jumped once more from the twitching fluff of a tree rat scuttling up the bark, he swore he was going to scream. Shitty squirrels. The whole walk was like one bad trip. His body just wasn't responding how it should. Sam kept telling himself that to keep going and not get pissy was just mind over matter.

'I'll just keep telling my mind that I don't matter.' He said the words quietly to himself but Bobby heard.

'Sam, how you doing?' The gruff words came from the dark shape ahead.

'I know I should be all stoic and manly and say fine, but I'm not. Oh shit.' A flash of weakness and the dull ache in his legs had him stumbling. The taller man stopped to brace a hand against a tree, drawing oxygen in to tired lungs.

Bobby re traced the few steps that separated them and put a hand to the young man's forehead. The smooth expanse was radiating heat.

'Oh, crap. Boy, if you had a fever you should have said! John taught you better than that.' Sam moved his hand away from his brow and held it, peering seriously into Bobby's face.

'This is new. I was tired before, but this has come on only since I got here.'

Bobby wrenched his hand away and cursed. 'Jesus H Christ! I am so stupid. What's the one thing Elkins always said after a vampire attack?' Sam wrinkled his nose hoping this was rhetorical because he had nothing.

The elder man stood alert once more to search the bushes around them. 'Turn around. We're going back to the car. Shit! I never had time to research this properly. We were so fired up... running here and with Dean hell bent on revenge... We need to feed you holy water and dead blood when we get back. The vampires must be near.' This was more words than Sam had ever heard Bobby say so he figured it must be bad.

'Bobby, what it is? Please, tell me?'

'It manifests itself like a fever. Aching, weakness... compliance. You're like their puppet now kid. They call and you will follow.'

'Again?'

The elder hunter sighed while still keeping his eyes peeled. He much preferred hunting with John; Dean's wise ass remarks and Sam's need to question everything double quick made his old head hurt. There was something to be said for silent and deadly.

'The vampire that bit you? Until you're turned or killed, they have a hold on you. When you're in their vicinity and they tell you to do something, you'll do it.'

'What? Oh man.' And Sam finally figured out what had been bugging him since the car; why the fuck had he let Dean go alone, without him? Now he knew. He was officially his brother's bitch.

Too late, Sam noticed the silver eyes watching him from the tall heather. Kate leaped forward smoothly punching him in his midsection, dropping him like a stone. Bobby fired the bolt. He missed as Kate dived aside, and before his could load another, a knife stabbed him in the side.

Sam squirmed in the leaves and soil as he peered up at the woman. She smiled down at him just like she had when he was was stuck in the sewer chair.

'So, your big brother wasn't beast enough to finish the job huh? Well never mind. I'm that fucked off with the both of you Winchesters. I'm gonna kill Dean but I think I'll keep you for a longer term snack. You're big and tasty. It's a shame. I was gonna feed you to him and then keep my little blood sucking pretty for a toy. Oh well, can't have everything.'

Through his darkening vision, Bobby met Sam's eyes as comprehension finally dawned. Kate let them seek one another out. It was the fun part of the hunt, when your prey finally realised that there was no hope. For a few moments she relished in their pounding hearts and the smell of blood, before smiling, and then booting Sam in the back of the head.

* * *

Now...

Rage clouded his senses as he stumbled away from the carnage of the two vampires. Damn his anger. Damn his thirst. It was these distractions that had caused him to miss Sam getting weaker. Dean didn't know how much longer the blood link would join them, but he hoped it would be long enough for him to assure Sam's survival. That is, until he could find him and drag his pansy ass as far away from this crap hole as he could.

Scanning the map Ellen gave him, he realised that in retracing the steps of the two vampires, he was heading along to the route to the cave system. Great, he thought.

'I hate sewers and I hate caves.'

They were already on his bad list but just repeating how much he disliked them gave Winchester the grip he needed to keep moving and to not descend into blind panic.

There was no smell in the air to suggest that either of the Harvelle women had passed this way. He hoped that they had managed to steer clear of too much trouble. A small part of him was glad that they where not near; the worry about what he might find in the caves, combined with the dangerous way he was feeling was a deadly mix. He could not account for their safety if they had the misfortune to appear on the wrong end of his rage.

When he came round, Sam called himself several kinds of stupid. The ropes tied around his wrists and shoulders cut painfully into his already tender skin. The was a new pain at his neck and could feel the rawness of a fresh bite mark. It was scary. It felt hotter than the rest of his fevered body. They'd had take out big time on the Sam buffet, and had now left him to go cold and rotten in the trash.

A self summary reported that his body was going to give up for him being such a bastard to it again. But, in the grand scheme of things, he supposed he had got off rather lightly, he wasn't dead. Yet.

'Hospital's not an option.' he muttered.

He doubted that the ER would again so helpfully accept him back with mysterious blood loss. Hospitals were dangerous places with Henrickson on their tail. Screw himself though. It was Bobby who was in the deepest shit.

Twisting carefully, he could see that Bobby was pale and unresponsive. The vampires had drank deeply from their friend. His neck and wrists were livid with bite marks, and his breathing was shallow and pained. Sam hoped that the stab wound hadn't clipped a lung. He couldn't bare the thought of another loss to their odd little family. Singer looked like some toddler's rather large and hairy rag doll tossed carelessly away against the cave wall. After hearing Bobby's breathing hitch and almost stop, Sam struggled in vain to get into a better position. It was pointless though, he was weak and the ropes where too tight. They both needed help and fast.

Sod precaution, Sam thought and then yelled, 'Dean!'

Nothing. They were stuck.

* * *

A/N

Thank you again for all the reviews. Should just be one more chapter to go and maybe an epilogue.

Sorry this has taken so long to write; I started in a new department at work, have been ill and lost a beloved old cat. So this one is for Frankie, our cat who, despite being brought all manner of expensive beds and cat toys, preferred to sleep in a Space Raiders crisp box.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

'Dean...?'

Trapped in dreams, he recalled the pain that lined his neck and shoulders. He could feel her sharp teeth gnawing deeper, sliding smoothly through his skin. The vein at his throat burst through the wound like a budding flower, causing her to moan in satisfaction. Her soft hair brushed against his shoulder and made him shiver. The gentle gliding action of these small strands was a pitifully tender gesture compared to her bruising hands and teeth. His facial muscles flinched as she jerked him closer taking an even deeper bite. Raising bloody lips to his ear, she ran her tongue around the little shell.

'Your brother tasted as good. I took from him before I let my little girl change him. He was delirious, calling for his father but most especially for you. In the end, that's how we got him to feed from us. I said if he didn't, we'd kill you. Right there in front of him. We would take every little bit of you and turn it inside out.' Her laughter cut deeper than her teeth. It followed him through to waking. He tip-toed the edge of conciousness before the pain of her remembered teeth dragged him away again.

Sam continued to fade in and out. He kept feeling him self jerk awake from confused memories of feeding and falling to find his wrists on fire from holding him upright.

The temperature as night deepened raised goose flesh all over his body. Moaning, he shook his head to keep awake but it was mere moments before his eyes drooped again. Freezing tears peaked at the corners of his long eyes. It was hopeless. One tear fell as Bobby began to shudder on the floor.

'Dean!' the call came out more painfully than before.

Crunching in the dead leaves on the floor to the right of him had him shifting away from Bobby to see. The sound of footsteps? Only one set? Dean? Sam hoped so.

'Dean?'

Squirrel.

* * *

'So... where have you been staying?'

'With Bobby.' Silence descended between them. The struggle for conversation was reminiscent of all their recent phone calls; apart from the one after the fire. That one had been full of tears.

'Look mom, I'm real sorry about the Roadhouse. It was my home too,' the woman paused as a crackle entered her voice, 'And I miss him, Ash.'

'Don't we all honey.' Ellen reached back and squeezed her arm. 'Look, I'm not mad at you for not coming back. You called to check... it's enough. I understand... what with Sam being around me more.'

The young woman worried at her lower lip.

'Out with it. It isn't like you not to say what you think.'

'He scares me. The things I've been seeing, to know he was supposed to lead them as some hell general. I know he was possessed, but mom, when he had me trapped... I've never felt so powerless in my life. I've always been able to hit back, be strong, but Sam, he's taken that away.'

'Not Sam. The demon.'

'Are you so sure? People talk. Hunters talk, and all I have been hearing is how Sam is...'

'No Jo.' Ellen interrupted. 'If he were, Dean would deal with it. He would never allow his brother to...'

'Come off it, you've seen how Dean is? He would rather die than kill Sam. It's ridiculous, I mean, how can he...'

'Sacrifice himself for his brother? Sweetheart, Dean has cared from that boy from when he was no more 'an a boy himself.'

'But he's his brother, not his father. Doesn't he want anything for himself?' The words where raw and envious. Ellen could hear the true question behind the statement; 'Why doesn't he want me for himself.'

'You met John but I knew him a lot better than you. He raised his boys to defend themselves, but most especially each other. If a demon took hold of Sam, Dean would end it. The demon wouldn't be his brother.'

'But mom you didn't see. I was sure it was Sam. It was like a dark switch had been flipped and all this evil came pouring out. One second he was taunting me, then next he was begging Dean to kill him.'

'Jo honey, you've never seen anyone apart from Sam possessed. I have. I know how scary it is. The demon has all the memories, all the mannerisms... only without the soul. It wasn't Sam.'

Jo stayed silent but Ellen knew she hadn't won from the defiant look that settled into the mulish shape of Jo's chin and shoulders.

'That map beginning to make any sense to you?' The distraction worked for the blond lowered her eyes to the co-ordinates on the tracker, and then to the haphazardly folded map.

'I think that we can get in this way.' Jo shone her torch over her map, and then back at a rough opening in the foliage ahead. 'I think it leads to a crack in the rock face.'

'You sure?'

'Humm... think so.'

'Okay then. Behind me missy. This maybe a bust, but I don't want you hurt in the cross fire.'

'Mom!' the younger woman huffed a little, but then followed in her mother's shadow. She'd take over as soon as the real action started.

* * *

Dean skidded to a halt, his nostrils flared slightly as he took in the bloody mess by sight and smell. 'Oh, god.'

The two vampires had guzzled down fast before hunting him; getting high on his friend and brother's blood. Bobby lay sprawled in a thickening pool. His heavy jacket and layers of clothing torn aside where the vampires had mercilessly bit into his skin. The flesh under his grey beard had been torn apart by eager hands, leaving an ugly mess that insects were already beginning to inspect despite the subduing cold. Gagging against the hunger that Bobby's blood incited in him but relieved he could still hear the old man's sluggish breathing, Dean turned heavy eyes to Sam.

'No, no.'

Dean's hands slipped on the mass of red covering Sam's shoulders as he tried to hoist him up and out of the binding.

'Come on dude, you're not gonna let a couple of girls turn you into their bitch? That's my job.' Only a small tremor marred his voice as his tried to get a better grip sparing Sam's arms from bearing the full brunt of his weight.

'Easy up. Wanna give me a hand here, tiger.' Dean tightened his body and pushed, hoping to get the chain at Sam's wrists to wrench free off the hook. He missed and the jerk down surprised a weak moan from the taller man. 'Stop bitching. You're the one the size of Schwarzenegger, not me.' he huffed, 'Think you'd be able to keep yourself outta harm for at least half an hour, huh?'

Desperation and the rising anger over what the vampires had again caused to happen to Sam made him wish he had killed them slower, more painfully and brutally. His rage fed his strength and with one upward push he freed Sam from the wall, only to have him crash down to his knees.

Head tilted over Sam, the aroma of his blood again stoked the fire within Dean. For a moment he dropped his guard and his face twitched. Raw pain flashed across his mouth igniting his fangs. Dean crushed Sam against him. He was close to the end. But as much as the blood called to him, and as much as the desire to feed was strong, Dean knew that he was stronger. He buried his face against the unbroken side of Sam's neck, drawing comfort from his brother's breathing. He needed to move, but for the moment Dean wanted to relish in the prissy geeky life still powering the body in his arms. Relieved, he raised his savage face.

'Bobby!' Scattering forest debris, Jo skidded to a halt. Shock from seeing Bobby made her heart speed up. The sight of Dean's face as he turned from Sam almost stopped it dead. Bile surged up in her throat.

'Oh my..'

Dean let his features relax. It could be so easy. He could let it end here and now. No struggling with this curse. No constant battle with Sam to stop him from finding a way out of the demon deal. This could be the end he was looking for. He watched, detached as the woman raised the crossbow with trembling hands. The tip of the bolt ended up dead centre on his heart. His eyes trailed from that red tip, down to his chest, back up to Jo's face and then to Ellen's.

'How long... since the hospital? Was this your big plan? Get us all here. All those you know how who can hunt you down and dispose of you? God. You've killed them both. My god, Sam. He never said. What did you do before? Attack him from behind and then have a clash of conscience?' Ellen pumped the rifle in time with her last word.

'I bet he was in on it, damn him. Fucking Winchesters! You're all a friggin' curse to anyone who has ever known you!' Jo spat the words at him.

'I never touched Bobby.' He couldn't die with the world thinking that. He cleared his throat and shifted Sam slowly to the floor tucking his tattered flannel shirt back around his body.

'Dean?' Sam called softly disturbed by the movement. He'd been five again, warm and safe a moment before, being held after a nightmare by his big brother. Now, his bleary eyes sharpened to find all weapons trained on Dean.

'But you did Sam?' With that, Ellen loosed the shell into his brother. Dean flew back with a deep growl.

'No!' Sam struggled with limp muscles to crawl over to Dean. 'They did this. He never touched either of us. Stop! Please!'

'Ignore him mom. I bet he is under his thrall. I remembered on the way up – he's bitten him. He's a familiar. Just like he's that demon's pet.'

'Sam, stay put!' Dean ordered his brother. Sam instantly stilled, however his muscles flexed and his jaw clenched trying to free himself from the command.

'We should finish this now!' Jo raised the bow and pointed the arrow at Sam. She'd had enough of being scared.

'No!' the elder Winchester screamed. Frustration caused little amounts of spittle to fly out with the word.

The battle to free himself from the order won, Sam weakly reached Dean as his elder brother struggled to sit up, hissing in pain from the burn of the poison. They looked at one another before turning to the Harvelle women.

'You shoot my brother Jo, be the last thing you ever do, sweetheart.' Dean felt Sam's shaky arm encircle his shoulder. 'Before you go doing that, you may wish to know that Bobby is still alive, but this continuing drama in the cold is gonna get him dead.'

Ellen shook her head over the situation. Dean was weak from the poison, but still damned deadly.

'Jo. Lower the bolt.' addressing the men she said, 'We're gonna take Bobby and leave. Don't let us see you again Dean.' Ellen bit the words out grimly. She flinched the rifle back and nodded to her daughter to go. Jo still had the bolt trained on Sam. Anger flexed and twitched in her small face. Sucking in harsh breaths through her nose she flicked the safety catch. Watching the brothers, the two women collected Bobby and began the slow walk down the trail.

Dean shivered in agony from the poison and Sam from the cold.

'Well that went well.'

The sound of Sam's harsh laugh surprised a small smile out of Dean. Slowly and painfully, they followed the trail back towards the Impala.

* * *

Epilogue

A few days later, another town, another job and another motel, they boys sat in the café as far away from the sunlight as possible. The other patrons of the greasy hole steered clear. There was something just so _other_ about the pale carved features of the elder Winchester. It had them circling around the men's table when going to the bathroom. Not that his companion looked any better; bruised and bandaged up. The other diners could only guess at what had caused those half healed scratches and dirty bites.

A braver waitress approached the older brooding man. 'Can I get you anything?'

'Coffee, black.' came the clipped reply.

'I'll have pancakes and coffee please.' The warm smile from the younger man served to calm the tension somewhat. She brought the order to their table and watched as the two drank and ate in silence, and then left evermore quietly. Most days you never noticed who pulled up and ate in a place like this but she suspected it would be a long time before these two slipped from her memory.

Outside, the sunlight had Dean hitching his leather closer.

'I'm glad Bobby is okay. I'm sure Ellen will calm down. I think.' Conversation had been a little lacking since the caves. Dean had refused to answer his cell when Bobby had called. Sam had tried to reassure him of Bobby's support but it was a conversation that could wait. He couldn't bare to witness the disgust in the older man's face. It would almost be like telling his father.

Sam turned to view the closed profile of his brother. Oh dear. It was going to be another day of single worded responses, before Dean locked himself in the bathroom and Sam would hear the gagging noises Dean made with cold stolen blood.

'You oughta eat Dean.'

'I will.'

'I mean it. I'm not providing the snack box again. I swear if I have to drink holy water and dead blood again to stop my self from following your suggestions so help me God.' He hoped the memory would lighten the mood. It worked.

A smirk lit Dean's eyes. 'Come off it. It was pretty funny...'

'No, it wasn't.'

'You made me do the Snoopy dance, in my boxers in a 7/11. I could have been arrested. I looked like a freak.' It had been the night after the fight with the women. During the day, Sam had been hooked up to a home-made drip, commanded to stay awake. When Sam had stopped looking so pale and wanted to eat, Dean - running high on the knowledge of a job done - had relaxed and let the humour of the situation get to him for a moment. The suggestion from Dean to go get food while doing a little dance just seemed to reasonable to Sam, and damned near hilarious to Dean. Until the next day. When he'd forgotten, and walked out into direct sunlight.

He was forever bound to the shadows. They both were.

'Dude, seriously... you've always been a freak.'

'Whatever, you Lestat wannabe.'

Sam's eyebrows wiggled mockingly under his hair. The amused cast to his youthful face had Dean half pushing, half punching him in his good arm. The desired momentum twisted the younger man towards the Impala and Dean's next step caught him up as he laughingly pushed Sam on.

'I'm taller 'an Cruise!'

'Never as tall as me, tiny fang!'

Jostling Sam, Dean asked, 'You'd like that new tutu in pink or yellow, cupcake?'

Good or bad, life, or afterlife, was going to be a helluva lot more interesting from now on.

The End.

* * *

A/N

Thanks to all of you who have reviewed this over the last couple of months. I may go back and revise it. Unbeta'd, I imagine that there are some really off sentences in this thing. But for the moment, like Dean, I am riding high on a job well done – not that I shall be frequenting the nearest corner shop in my undies (shudder).

If people are interested, I may continue with this, a Count Dean AU... I'll see if inspiration strikes. Besides, Dean still needs to have _that_ conversation with Bobby ;-)


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